


all the poets come to life

by trishapocalypse



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Rimming, again this is thoroughly self indulgent idk, mentions of spanking/ humiliation kink/ etc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-07
Updated: 2013-07-07
Packaged: 2017-12-17 23:07:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/873001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trishapocalypse/pseuds/trishapocalypse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry likes when Liam bruises him.</p><p>(Or: I just really wanted a reason to write gratuitous wall sex where Harry gets bruised a lot and Liam kisses them better.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	all the poets come to life

**Author's Note:**

> Once more, for Tari and Sam who thoroughly encourage me to write really dirty things and make me question my sanity. Actually, this is really all Liam's fault, if we're being honest. But I digress. And also, as always, this isn't true, hastily beta'd, blah blah, Tari is my favorite ever, and here we go...
> 
> tumblr: @trishanthemum :)

Liam didn't know what he loved about it so much, he really didn't. It could've been a combination of many things, from the way Harry's back arched as his cheek was pressed against the wall, the sweat pooling in the dimples at the base of his spine, the little whimpers that would escape his throat as Liam held his wrists above his head, preventing him from touching himself as he came deep inside of him. It could've been anything. It could've been the way Harry fell limp against him, Liam's fingers wrapped tightly around his leaking cock, jerking him off. 

Or it could've been the way Harry bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, trying to be quiet as he came, spilling over Liam's fist. It could've even been the way Harry would press their lips together afterwards, trying to overpower Liam, even though he knew he couldn't, just so Liam would grab his hips roughly and pin him against the wall, bruising him and marking him so Harry would feel it for days.

Really, it could've been any of these things. But it was probably all of them.

And Harry, he loved all of it. He loved the way Liam would slide up behind him, fingers resting perfectly against the curve of his hip, fingertips dancing along his v-line. He was particularly fond of the way Liam would bite at the soft skin at the back of his neck, just under the hairline, where Harry could easily hide it if he wished, where Liam could see it and inspect his handy work with the memory of how Harry would melt back against him the minute Liam’s lips touched his skin. 

Harry loved the way Liam would crowd him against the wall of the hotel room after a show, bodies slick with sweat and desperate for a shower, sliding his skinny jeans down his legs, forcing them open, rubbing himself off against him. Harry was even fonder of the way Liam was gentle with him onstage and rough behind closed doors, bruising his hips and his thighs, his wrists and his neck with kisses and bites, even one particular bruise on the curve of his arse, the back of his thigh, close to his hole and that one, that one Harry felt for _days._ That’s what he loved the most, the way that he could still feel Liam days later, whether it was from being stretched tight around his length, his cheek pressed against the mattress as Liam fucked him harder, deeper, turning Harry into a whimpering, pathetic mess. 

Harry liked feeling used, but he knew Liam would never use him. Because even after the bruises, holding Harry down against the bed, the occasional spanking session that Harry _really_ enjoyed, Liam would still curl around him, running his hand through Harry’s hair, and no. Liam would never _use_ Harry, he just wanted to give him what he wanted. And if Harry wanted to be roughed up, bruised, spanked, punished— _whatever,_ then Liam would give it to him. 

Louis was the first to notice. 

Well, that wasn’t entirely accurate, because all of the guys _noticed._ They noticed when Liam and Harry would spend more nights in than out, when Harry tried to cram into a bunk on the bus with Liam, even though they both _obviously_ didn’t fit. They noticed when Harry didn’t leave Liam’s side, curling around him during interviews, before and after shows, like he was trying to meld both of their bodies together. They noticed when Liam’s tone changed from calm and collected to more forceful with Harry, and not with anything _important,_ but whenever he asked Harry to do _anything._ And they noticed when Harry’s eyes would slip shut, lips parting whenever Liam touched his wrist _just so,_ tugging him along towards another interview or photo shoot or whatever else was going on. 

But Louis was the first to notice the bruises. 

It had been casual; they had been shopping at the mall, taking a break to get lunch in the food court, and Harry reached up to scratch the back of his neck, and his shirt rode up, and Louis shrieked. 

“Bloody hell, mate, what happened to _you_?!” Louis asked, reaching for the hem of Harry’s white shirt and dragging it up.

Harry flushed, pushing Louis’ hand away and looking around. He met Liam’s eyes from across the food court, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth when Liam just sent him a _smile._ “Nothing,” Harry said quietly, because it was between him and Liam, and it was _private._

“That’s not nothing. You look like you’ve been attacked by a wildebeest,” Louis told him, reaching for Harry’s shirt again.

“Lou, stop,” Harry told him, jerking away from his hand. He folded his arms across his waist and pouted. “Do you even know what a wildebeest is?”

Louis rolled his eyes. “Of course I do.”

“Then you’ll know it wasn’t a wildebeest,” Harry said simply, a slow smile on his face as he watched Liam ordering some lunch for the both of them. Because Liam knew what he _liked_ and he just trusted him, completely. 

“Well, someone did,” Louis said, tugging Harry closer by the belt and lifting up the bottom of his shirt. He smiled and pressed against the bruises, his smile only widening when Harry’s eyes slipped shut. “Harold, you little slut,” he commented fondly, ignoring the glares of people as they walked by, because Louis didn’t _care_ what other people thought of him, that much was clear.

“Louis, don’t,” Harry said softly, shuddering when Louis pressed against the bruises directly on his hipbone, and he remembered. He remembered when Liam had bent him over the dining room table, hips pressing against the hard wood as Liam fucked into him, tugging at his hair and—

Louis laughed, poking at Harry’s stomach. “Who is it?”

Harry bit his lip, looking up in time to see Liam walking over to them, a tray full of food, and a frown on his face. “Liam—“

“It was _Liam_?!” Louis shrieked.

“Calm down, Lou, people are staring,” Liam told him, setting the tray down on the closest table. He rested his hand on the small of Harry’s back, leading him towards the table and sitting down next to him. “Y’alright?”

Harry nodded, cheeks stained red, and he turned to face Liam, gazing up at him from underneath his thick eyelashes. “I’m sorry—“

Liam shook his head, sliding his hand from Harry’s back to the inside of his thighs. His fingers found their own groove and he pressed against the seam of his jeans, right against the bruises he had left three days prior. “Don’t be,” Liam told him quietly.

“You two are weird,” Louis muttered. “Where’s my lunch?”

“Get your own,” Liam said with a shrug.

Louis rolled his eyes. “So hard to find decent mates these days. I woulda gotten you two something, just remember that,” he told him.

“No, you wouldn’t have,” Harry said.

Louis paused. “Well, I woulda thought about getting you two something.”

Liam smiled, shaking his head. “Go get food, Louis. I promise we’ll still be here whenever you get back,” he told him.

“Don’t you patronize me, Liam Payne. Being mean doesn’t suit you,” Louis announced before walking across the food court to order his lunch. 

Liam waited until Louis was out of earshot before he turned to Harry. “What was that?”

“Louis being Louis,” Harry told him softly. “He just—He saw them and—“

“Bet you loved that,” Liam whispered, though he wasn’t annoyed or angry, more…fond than anything, really. 

Harry felt himself flush again and he looked down, focusing on the way Liam’s fingers danced along the inside of his thigh. “I didn’t—“

“You did,” Liam interrupted, brushing his fingers past Harry’s crotch, to reach his hips, pressing down against the bruises that he knew were hiding underneath the fabric. 

Harry gasped softly, because it was _Liam,_ and it was just…different with him, different when it was Liam’s fingers against the bruises, different than Louis who just didn’t use enough pressure and just… _different._ “Liam,” he choked out, looking into his soft brown eyes.

Liam smiled. “Can’t wait to get you home,” he told him. “Wanna see how many more bruises I can leave on you, yeah?”

Harry nodded quickly, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Yeah. Wanna go now?”

Liam laughed, pinching Harry’s side, and he noticed Louis returning out of his peripheral. “Not yet. We promised Louis a day of shopping.”

“But—“ Harry cut himself off and shook his head, pouting.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you want to kiss me.”

Harry smiled slowly, shaking his curls out of his face. “I always want to kiss you,” he admitted quietly.

The corner of Liam’s lips quirked upwards and he reached for Harry’s thigh again before turning to face Louis, who had just slammed his tray down on the cheap plastic table. “Louis, what did you get?”

“Pizza,” he muttered distastefully. “Everything else looked rubbish.”

“Should’ve gotten Chinese,” Liam told him, pointing towards his own tray. “This looks delicious.”

“It does,” Harry agreed, resting his chin on Liam’s bicep. 

Liam grinned and tightened his hold on Harry’s thigh, a wordless promise of what was to come later, if only Harry would stop _fidgeting._ Because as much as Liam wanted to take him home, back to their flat, their loft flat with a lack of neighbors and a big balcony, and fuck him until he cried, he also wanted Harry to _wait._ Because Harry was eager, but he also had no patience, and Liam liked pushing him to the edge, waiting for him to spill over, just to pull him back again. (Harry insisted that he liked it more, which was debatable, not that it would surprise Liam at all.)

 

+

 

The next time Louis embarrassed him, Harry had been trying to recover from the night before.

Liam had him bent over the back of the couch, Harry's hands pressed against his lower back, as Liam fucked into him. His hips were slamming into the frame, little whimpers leaving his lips, as Liam told him how pretty he was, how pretty he looked just _taking_ it, how he was made for taking cock, and, fuck. Harry tried to reach for Liam, for something to hold onto, but he couldn't. Liam held his wrists tightly against the small of his back. Harry's cock was swollen and leaking, begging to be touched, for _something_ that Liam just ignored. Liam pulled out as he came, hot spurts of come painting the back of Harry's thighs, his lower back, smearing across this hole.

"Give me your hands," Liam said, reaching for Harry's fingers. He maneuvered them until Harry was clenching his own cheeks, holding them as far apart as he could, and Liam sunk to his knees.

Harry threw his head back, a deep moan escaping his lips as Liam slid three fingers deep into his hole. He instinctively clenched around him, feeling Liam's tongue slide between his fingers. His hips tried to push back against him, wanting— _needing_ —more. But Liam held him against the furniture with one hand.

"Wanna hear you," Liam told him, voice rough as he fucked Harry with his fingers.

"Please, Liam, wanna come so bad, need to come, _please,_ " Harry groaned, head falling forward. His heart was racing and his breathing was uneven, he was so close, and if he could just get a little bit of friction with the couch—

Liam jerked him back, pulling out of him completely. "Don't touch yourself," he demanded, pulling Harry's hips backwards until he was straddling Liam's face.

Harry cried out, reaching for the back of the couch as Liam slid his tongue along his hole. It was good, _so good,_ and it was too much. Liam's fingers nudged against his prostate, moving in tandem with his tongue, and Liam's fingers were bruising, his hold tight, deepening bruises that already littered the skin of Harry's thighs and creating new ones. "Please, Liam, wanna come so bad. Can I come, please? Wanna come, so good, you're so good," Harry rambled, eyes slipping shut.

Liam's hold on his thighs tightened, a silent affirmation.

Harry nearly screamed as he came, Liam's fingertips against his prostate and tongue licking hotly around his hole, his eyes squeezing shut as a few tears slipped out.

Liam pulled away as Harry's knees buckled and he collapsed against Liam's chest. Liam smiled fondly, scratching his fingers through Harry's messy curls, and he wrapped an arm around his waist. "You're so good, Harry. You're so good to me, such a good boy," he whispered, his breath hot against the side of Harry's neck.

Harry smiled sleepily, turning to look up at Liam with a sated look on his face. "Yeah?"

Liam nodded. "You ready for bed?"

Harry nodded and slumped back against Liam's chest, allowing his boyfriend to easily lift him up and carry him off to bed. Liam cleaned him up and Harry curled around him like a cat, trying to get their bodies as close as humanly possible.

And when Harry woke up, it was to Liam's tongue prodding across his hole, fingers massaging the bruises he left the night before, a silent and unnecessary apology. And it was different, so much different when Liam fucked him slowly, chest against Harry's back, until they both came together. And Harry would've been content to stay there all day, naked in Liam's arms, but no. Because Zayn had invited them over to a pool party, and Liam wanted to go, so of course Harry did, too.

And that was where Louis got tipsy, trying to be funny, as he pulled Harry's swim shorts down as Harry reached for a beer.

And that was when they all saw the smattering of bruises along the back of his thighs, around his hips. Harry swallowed, hastily reaching down to pull them up, and he turned around, meeting Liam's steady gaze, who just _smiled._

"Looks like someone's having fun," Zayn muttered.

Harry flushed deeply.

"C'mere," Liam instructed.

Harry nodded and walked over to him, sitting down at the edge of the pool, feet slipping into the warm water.

"He is having fun," Liam assured the rest of them, pulling Harry’s legs around his shoulders and his eyes never left his. "Aren't you?" he asked, hands sliding over the bruises and under the offensive white shirt Harry insisted on wearing at the pool. He tugged it over his shoulders and tossed it aside, and Liam heard the collective gasp of the guys as they saw the bruises and marks over Harry's chest and hips. Liam pressed his fingers against Harry's nipple, sliding around the bruise, and Harry moaned softly, not meaning to, and Liam smiled.

"Seems like he's having a lot of fun," Zayn said, clearing his throat and taking a drink from his beer.

Liam nodded, pressing his lips briefly to Harry's nipple, teeth tugging at the skin, and Harry bit back another moan. When he pulled away, Liam took in his flushed expression and wide eyes with a small laugh. "Right?"

Harry just nodded, his eyes glazed over as Liam rubbed against the soft skin of his thighs.

"Good boy.” Liam grabbed Harry’s hips and pulled him into the pull, under the water, and Harry instinctively wrapping his legs around Liam’s waist. Liam rubbed circles into the skin of Harry’s back, soothing, comforting.

Harry rested his head against Liam’s shoulder as Louis jumped back in the pool and swam over to them.

“So, what, Harry, do you like to be beaten in bed or summat?” 

“Louis!” Niall shouted, shaking his head. “You don’t just ask people about their sex life.”

“ _You_ don’t,” Louis muttered. 

Liam’s arm tightened around Harry’s waist, almost protective, as he pulled him closer. He looked down at Harry, who was biting his lower lip. “Louis—“

“It’s okay,” Harry said softly against Liam’s neck.

“He likes when I’m rough with him,” Liam told them, pressing a kiss to Harry’s temple.

“That looks like you’re more than a little rough,” Zayn said, swimming over to their side of the pool. He reached for his pack of cigarettes, lighting one before taking a drink of his beer. He eyed Harry’s bruises, the ones he could see, outlining his nipples, his collarbone, around the swallows inked into his chest. 

“He likes it,” Liam said, his voice soft. His fingers found the soft skin of Harry’s side, pressing against him. Harry buried his face against Liam’s neck, a soft whimper escaping his lips, and he shifted his hips until he was pressed fully against Liam’s side. Liam smiled and followed the gaze of Zayn’s eyes that were latched on the bruises, like he couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that Harry liked them, asked for them, and loved how they felt. “Wanna touch them?” he asked.

Zayn’s eyes widened and he took a slow drag off of his cigarette. “Is that—“ he paused and blew out the smoke, coughing just a little bit. “No, it’s—“

“You can if you want,” Liam told him. 

“Is he—Are you okay with that?” Zayn asked quietly, meeting Harry’s eyes.

Harry nodded slowly, his curls tickling the skin of Liam’s neck, and he watched as Zayn stubbed out his cigarette and waded through the water until he was standing next to Liam. Zayn reached out slowly, hesitantly, fingertips pressing against the bruise underneath Harry’s nipple, purple against tan skin. Harry’s eyes slipped shut and a whimper escaped his lips as Zayn’s finger grazed over the sensitive bud, and he hissed when Zayn lightly tugged at it.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt—“

“He’s not hurt,” Liam interrupted, feeling Harry shift against him and he could tell that the younger boy was turned on. He rubbed against his side, Harry panting against his neck. 

“He—“ Zayn shook his head and took a step back. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Harry told him.

“You okay?” Liam asked quietly.

Harry nodded. “Liam—“

Liam cut him off with a quick kiss, ignoring the cheering from Louis and Niall, and he pulled away, tilting Harry’s chin up with his finger. “Tonight, yeah? I’ll take care of you,” he promised.

Harry pouted and shifted against him. “But—“

“Tonight,” Liam repeated, his tone a little more forceful.

Harry nodded, pressing his lips against Liam’s. “Tonight.” But Harry wasn’t exactly patient, and within the hour, he was bored and horny and he wanted to _leave._ Liam was at the grill with Niall, beer in hand, and Harry caught his eye as he climbed out of the pool. He smiled and reached for his towel, drying off his chest before he looked back over at Liam, sending him a small smile as he bent forward to dry off his legs. He shook out his hair, wiggling his arse a little bit, and he didn’t miss the way Liam licked his lips before taking a drink of his beer. Harry was pulling on his white t-shirt when he felt Liam slip an arm around his waist, dipping beneath the hem of his swim shorts and grazing over his hips, brushing over his v-line and the crease in his thigh. Harry leaned back against Liam’s chest, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth as Liam scratched his nails over the front of Harry’s thighs.

“Don’t tease, love,” Liam whispered against his neck, pulling his hand away from Harry’s thigh long enough to slap him on the arse before he walked back towards the grill. 

Harry flushed and didn’t know Louis was around him until an arm was slung across his shoulder. “Hi.”

Louis smiled, more of a leer really, and patted Harry’s shoulder affectionately. “So… What’s Liam like in bed?”

 

+

 

Liam liked to take his time with Harry, until he was whimpering and pliant in his hands, because it was so easy and Harry was so _eager_ to please him. Liam had Harry up against the wall, shirt rucked up under his hipbones, and he pulled his swim shorts down his thighs as Liam sunk to his knees in front of him. He ran his hands over the front of Harry’s thighs, around the back and upwards to cup his arse. Harry’s mouth dropped open, his head falling back against the wall as Liam kissed across his thighs and hips.

“You’re beautiful, Harry,” Liam whispered against the skin of his stomach.

Harry ran his hands over Liam’s hair, scratching at the base of his neck. “Thank you, Liam, you’re so good to me, so good,” he told him, dropping to his knees and littering kisses across Liam’s cheeks, his jaw, his lips, his neck. 

Liam caught Harry’s lips with his own, kissing him soundly before pulling away and dragging Harry to his feet. “Let me take care of you,” he said softly, cupping Harry’s cheeks with his hands and pressing their lips together again, once, twice, before he pulled away with a soft smile.

Harry nodded, his eyes slipping shut, a lazy smile on his face. And he allowed Liam to take his hand and drag him towards the bedroom, leading him towards the bed. He allowed Liam to pull off his shirt, tossing it aside, before he watched his boyfriend undress himself slowly. Liam crawled between Harry’s legs, pressing him against the mattress; Harry’s fingers tightened against the metal coils of the bedframe as Liam’s lips traced the sensitive skin of his thighs. Liam hummed his approval when Harry’s legs fell open, his body pliant as Liam’s fingertips followed the same path as his lips.

Liam ran his lips and his tongue over the smattering of bruises that painted the inside of Harry’s thighs and his hips. Harry hissed as Liam nipped at his hipbone, tugging at the skin, and adamantly avoiding his erection. Liam pulled away long enough to watch Harry’s eyes drift shut and he studied the bruises, his handiwork, and he felt an overwhelming feeling of adoration piling up in the pit of his stomach, and it was then that he realized it. It was then that he realized Harry, who trusted him so completely, without question, without fault, wholly and purely, was perfect, and he was lucky and blessed to have him and—fuck. He was in love with Harry, completely, in every way, and he smiled.

“What?” Harry asked breathlessly.

“Nothing, I just…” Liam trailed off and lifted a shoulder shrug. “I just love you, is all.”

Harry smiled, his dimple deepening. “You—You love me?”

Liam nodded.

Harry surged forward, nearly knocking Liam over as he pressed their lips together. It was slow, unhurried, but Harry felt like he was going to die with the lack of friction, and he pushed his hips up off the mattress, against Liam’s.

Liam instinctively grabbed his hips and pressed them down, their lips parting as he held Harry against the mattress.

Harry smiled, falling back against the bed. “I love you, too. Now, will you _please_ fuck me?”

Liam laughed and nodded. “Turn over.”

Harry turned over quickly at Liam’s command, rising to his knees. Liam’s hands ran over the back of his thighs, pushing against the bruises, and causing quiet, breathy little moans to escape Harry’s lips. “Li—Liam, _please,_ ” he repeated.

Liam nodded and trailed his fingers over Harry’s back, between his cheeks, over his swollen, pink hole. Harry pushed back against his fingers but Liam pulled away, leaning down to press his lips against Harry. He slid his tongue over his hole, barely dipping between his cheeks, and Harry gasped as Liam pressed his fingers against him.

“Liam, please, m’still open, please, just—please.”

Liam pulled away and slid a third finger deep inside of Harry, leaning up to kiss the back of Harry’s neck. “Still open from this morning, yeah?”

“Yeah, from your mouth, your cock, fucking me open,” Harry panted, fingers twisting in the sheets.

“Yeah, fuck, you liked that, huh?”

Harry nodded. “Liam—“

Liam press his lips to Harry’s shoulder, slipping his fingers out of him and guiding himself towards Harry’s hole, slipping inside only when Harry pushed his hips back. Liam sucked his bottom lip into his mouth because, fuck, he had been inside of Harry more times than he could count and he was still so hot, so tight. Liam took his time, sliding his hands across the back of Harry’s thighs, fucking him slowly. 

Harry reached for one of Liam’s hand, lacing their fingers together as he pushed back against him. Liam bit the back of Harry’s neck, worrying his teeth into the skin to form another bruise, as Harry moaned. Liam gripped his hip and quickened his thrusts, nudging against Harry’s prostate, and he felt the younger boy shiver underneath him. “Liam, fuck—“

Liam released Harry’s hand so he could wrap his fingers around his straining erection, jerking him off in time with his thrusts. Harry whimpered, arms giving out as his chest fell against the mattress. Liam straightened his back, holding onto Harry’s hip tightly while fucking into him, fingers tightening at the base of his cock.

“Liam, wanna come, can I—“

“Yeah,” Liam said as Harry came over his fist, spilling against the sheets. Liam bit his lip, thrusting deep inside of Harry as he came, hips stuttering as a moan escaped his lips. He collapsed against Harry’s back, pressing his body against the mattress.

Harry shifted against the mattress, whimpering with Liam’s cock slipped out of him, and he reached for Liam’s hand. 

Liam fit their fingers together, lifting his shoulder long enough for Harry to curl against his chest. “I gotta clean you up,” he said softly.

“Later,” Harry told him, pressing his lips against Liam’s chest.

“You get cranky when you’re covered in dried come, Harry.”

Harry pouted. “You get cranky,” he countered weakly.

Liam smiled, brushing Harry’s curls out of his face, away from his flushed cheeks and wide eyes. He ran his fingertips along Harry’s cheekbone, over his dimple, scratching the back of his neck.

Harry’s back arched, and he pressed closer to Liam’s chest. “Love you so much, Liam.”

“I love you, too,” Liam said, the words feeling _right_ as he spoke them, and he felt warm all over, which was terribly cliché, but it didn’t make it less true.

“You’re my favorite.”

Liam laughed softly. “You’re my favorite, too, Harry.”


End file.
